


In Sickness and In Health

by sonlali



Series: In Sickness and In Health [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Illness, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonlali/pseuds/sonlali
Summary: Patrick gets the flu. David takes care of him.





	In Sickness and In Health

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt**  
Someone gets a passing winter sickness; cold, flu, persistent cough, anything non-long term threatening.
> 
> Someone else - or a whole village - takes care of them.
> 
> thank you to the wonderful [cupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace) for reading, cheerleading, and providing thoughtful suggestions! <3

Patrick has been staring uncomprehendingly at a spreadsheet for at least ten minutes. He set out a half hour ago to track the Apothecary’s revenue for the week, but he’s barely made any progress. The numbers are swirling in and out of focus, and he can’t figure out why their profits are so low for this week.

His head is pounding and everything aches. He shuts his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. He tugs at the collar of his button-up shirt and wonders why it’s so damn hot in the store today.

“You’re missing a zero.” David’s voice rings out, far too loudly, from behind Patrick.

“Huh?” Patrick’s voice comes out as a croak.

“A zero. On your little spreadsheet here. For Tuesday, you have $79.50, but we brought in $790.50 that day, remember? That was the day the group of women drove up from Elm Grove and spent nearly $500 between them. We had only sold breath mints and lip balms that morning and you were worried about the daily profits and talking about all your cute chart things, but then that group of ladies came in and…”

David’s voice—normally one of Patrick’s favorite sounds—resembles a screeching foghorn blaring in his skull today. Patrick wishes he would stop chattering directly in his ear.

“Right, yep. Got it, thanks, David,” Patrick says irritably and adds the missing zero in his spreadsheet. Patrick tries to focus his attention on calculating the profit margin, but David is still talking. He’s standing far too closely, and the heat emanating from his body is making Patrick feel even warmer. He tugs at his shirt collar again.

“Patrick, are you even listening to me?” David’s voice suddenly cuts into Patrick’s thoughts.

“What? No, David, do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate on this.”

He feels David take a step back. “Okay, I know you’re the numbers guy. I was just trying to help.” He sounds huffy and offended.

Patrick sighs. “And I appreciate your help, David, but I just want to get this done, okay?”

David steps closer again, and Patrick feels frustration bubble under his skin.

“Are you okay, Patrick?”

“I’m fine, David. It’s just really hot in here and I have a headache, and I just want to finish this without any further interruptions, alright?” Patrick hears the irritation in his voice and regrets his tone immediately. He glances over his shoulder at David, who looks hurt, and Patrick feels guilt pour over him.

“David, I—” The rest of Patrick’s sentence is cut off by a violent sneeze.

David’s brow furrows and he leans in closer. “Patrick, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m fine. I have a headache, but I’m fine.” Patrick tries to turn back to the spreadsheet on his laptop, but David puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving.

David presses a hand to Patrick’s cheek and then his forehead, and Patrick sneezes again suddenly.

“No, you definitely have a fever. And your voice is all scratchy. Add in your headache and that phlegmy situation you have going on there.” David gestures to his face, and Patrick rubs at his nose self-consciously. “You’re definitely sick. You should go home, Patrick.”

“No, I don’t get sick. It’s probably just allergies or something,” Patrick protests, but even he can’t deny how terrible his voice sounds. He clears his throat, which starts a coughing spree, and David raises an eyebrow skeptically.

David turns and walks away when Patrick’s coughing jag is interrupted by another sneeze. He returns holding out a bottle of water and a box of tissues. Patrick blows his nose messily and gulps down the water gratefully, feeling slightly embarrassed as David watches on.

“Okay, maybe I have a bit of a cold, but I’m fine. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll go to the café and get some tea and take some pills for my headache, and I’ll be fine.”

“No, nonono, no.” David shakes his head in an exaggerated manner. “You wouldn’t have a fever with a cold. I think this is the flu.”

Patrick opens his mouth to protest but is interrupted when a customer enters the store. David greets the customer and turns back to Patrick.

“You. Go take your laptop and all your phlegm into the workroom. I’m going to help this customer and then deal with you in a minute.” His voice is so uncharacteristically stern that Patrick feels a rush of heat shooting through his body that has nothing to do with his fever. David shoves the box of tissues into his hand and lightly shoves Patrick into the workroom.

Patrick takes a seat at the desk in their workroom and tries to focus on his spreadsheet again, but the light from the laptop screen is making his head pound more fiercely. Patrick tries to focus instead on the sound of David’s voice out in the store as he assists the customer.

He remembers the first time in their relationship when David was ill. It was just a head cold, but David had dramatically proclaimed that he had the plague and made Patrick promise to mourn his death for at least a full year before entering a relationship with anyone else. David had stayed in bed with the curtains drawn and the hood of one of Patrick’s sweatshirts over his head and insisted that Patrick sanitize the entire store to protect all the merchandise from germs.

Mrs. Rose had run screaming from David and Alexis’ room after she saw that David was sick. When she bumped into Patrick as he brought David soup the next day, Mrs. Rose had commended Patrick on keeping a brave face when confronted with the inevitable demise of his beau. She had then shoved a surgical mask into his hand and told him to _save yourself, dear, before it’s too late_.

Patrick imagines that David’s reaction to illness will be much the same, especially considering the way David banished him to the workroom as soon as a customer entered the store. Patrick sighs thinking about what the next few days will be like. David won’t let him in the store, and he’ll be forced to do as much work as he is able from his laptop at Ray’s house. Ray will inevitably barge in to chat every few minutes. Worst of all – Patrick won’t be able to see David until he is fully healthy again.

By the time David finishes helping the customer and enters the workroom, Patrick has laid his head down on the desk and is feeling thoroughly miserable. He hears David sigh.

“Okay, come on. We need to get you to bed.” David tugs on Patrick’s arm until he rises to his feet wearily. In just the few minutes that have passed, he already feels colossally worse. Every muscle is aching, his body feels both overheated and chilly, and he’s starting to feel nauseated.

David wraps an arm around Patrick and starts walking him to the door. “Do you need me to drive you home?”

Patrick pulls away from David. “No, David, I’ll drive myself back and take a nap. I’m sure I’ll feel better in a few hours. I just need to rest.”

David clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Mm, honey, it’ll take more than a few hours just to address the snot factory you have going on. You’ll come back once you’re well, ‘kay? Let me know when you get back to Ray’s, so I don’t have to worry about you sneezing yourself off the road. I’ll check in later.”

David shoos Patrick out the door and into his car. Patrick considers stopping for some tea or medication, but he just wants to crawl into bed. He decides to drive straight to Ray’s and hope that he has some pain relievers that Patrick can take.

Patrick is relieved to see that Ray is preoccupied with a client when he gets home and doesn’t notice Patrick sneaking up the stairs. He kicks off his shoes and drops into bed without even undressing. Now that he’s been forced to concede that he is in fact ill, Patrick is feeling quite sorry for himself. His extreme fatigue makes the idea of rummaging around for medication or making himself a cup of tea seem like impossible feats, so he resigns himself to pouting into his pillow until he drifts into a fitful sleep.

\--

Patrick awakens when he feels the back of his head being stroked lightly. He opens his eyes slowly and hears himself make an embarrassing snuffling sound as he tries to breathe in through his congested nose. He rolls onto his back to find David perched on the edge of the bed beside him and smiling fondly.

“You sounded like a constipated pig for a while there. Lots of snorting and this weird whining, whistling noise occasionally? Very sexy. Here, I brought tissues and a couple of washcloths.” David is grabbing an assortment of items from Patrick’s bedside table that were most certainly not there when he fell asleep.

“David, what are you doing here?” Patrick finally manages to croak out.

David rolls his eyes and tsks impatiently. “Taking care of you obviously. I closed the store for an hour for lunch, so I could come here. Fortunately, Ray texted me to ask why your car was here since you failed to remember to text me that you hadn’t driven into a tree. Come on, sit up.”

Patrick blinks blearily, trying to catch up with what is happening, but he obediently sits up and grabs a tissue from David. After he goes through several tissues, David passes him a warm washcloth.

When Patrick just stares blankly at the cloth, David rolls his eyes and grabs the cloth himself, bringing it to Patrick’s face.

“David, what are you doing?” Patrick is half convinced he’s having a strange dream right now.

“It’ll help soothe your nose. It’s all red and…crusty.” He frowns in distaste but continues lightly wiping at Patrick’s nose. He raises his eyebrows pointedly. “I told you the phlegm situation was bad.”

After David is seemingly satisfied with the state of Patrick’s nose, he places the used washcloth on the bedside table and grabs a second cloth.

Patrick gapes as David brings the second washcloth to his forehead. He flinches away.

“It’s cold.” Patrick juts out his lower lip and grimaces.

“Yes, sweetheart. You have a fever. This will help cool you. Here, take these.” David deposits a couple pills into Patrick’s palm and hands him a cool glass of water. “They’ll help with your fever and body aches.”

David pets at Patrick’s hair gently until he has finished the entire glass of water. He smiles warmly. “Good! Now you can have some tea. I added some honey to help soothe your throat. How are you feeling now? Do you need anything else before I leave? It looks like Ray is out, so you should be able to rest without interruption for a while.”

Patrick sips at his tea and continues to stare at David in disbelief. David busies himself fluffing up Patrick’s pillows, and when Patrick continues not to speak, he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Patrick? Do you need anything else? I’ll have to go back to the store soon.” David bites at his lip and looks anxious suddenly, seemingly disturbed by Patrick’s continued lack of response. “Unless you think you need me to stay? I suppose we could just close early today…Or maybe I could bribe Stevie into helping out…”

“David, I’m sick.” Patrick cuts off David’s rambling.

“Yes, Patrick,” David says. “Yes, you _are_ sick. Very astute. Are you delirious too?”

“No, but David—” Patrick lets out an enormous sneeze, and David crinkles his nose and hands over another tissue. “David, I have germs. And mucous.”

“Ughhh, Patrick! You _know_ how much I hate that word!”

“That’s my point exactly, David! You’re a germaphobe, and I’m a walking petri dish of microorganisms right now.” Patrick exclaims.

“O_kay_,” David twists his mouth to the side and rolls his eyes again. “You certainly aren’t a _walking_ petri dish. You’re going to be confined to bed for at least a couple of days, I’d say.”

“But, you’ll get sick sitting here so closely to me and touching me and… and—”

“Obviously I’ll be thoroughly washing my hands when I leave, and I’ve already sanitized the entire store. But if I catch something from you, so what? I’m not going to just _not_ take care of you!” David suddenly frowns. “Did you…did you expect that I wouldn’t take care of you?”

“I mean, yeah!” Patrick says.

A hurt look crosses David’s face briefly, but he quickly schools his features into a stoic expression. “Well, I should get back to the store. Are you hungry? I’ve brought some soup from the café, and I think it’s almost edible. I left it down in the kitchen, but I could heat it up for you before I leave?”

Without waiting for a response, David scoops up both washcloths and the empty water glass and sweeps gracefully from the room. He returns quickly with a full glass of water and a warm bowl of soup.

“Okay, here’s your soup. I’ve left the bottle of pills on your table here. You can take two more in four hours. The box of tissues and a bag of cough drops are also here. Oh, and here’s that boring business book you were reading. I think that’s all. I’ll check in after I close up, okay?”

David is speaking very quickly and flitting around the room anxiously. Patrick watches his hands fly through the air in hectic arcs and thinks wildly of the time a blackbird mistakenly flew into the store and couldn’t find its way back out. The panicked bird spent several frantic minutes swooping from one corner of the store to the next before finally fleeing through the exit. Just as he did with the blackbird, Patrick wishes now that he could calm David’s anxious flapping and gently guide him to the door.

But just like the bird, David finds his escape on his own. After another minute of nervous fluttering, David promises to check in later and swoops out the door, leaving Patrick baffled and overwhelmed.

Not knowing how to process this unexpected display of caregiving from David, Patrick sips at his soup until he begins to feel drowsy again. As his eyes begin to slam shut, the last image that flits through Patrick’s mind is the hurt expression on David’s face before he left.

\--

Patrick awakens again when Ray barges into his room and begins speaking in an exaggerated stage whisper. “Patrick! Are you asleep?”

Patrick groans and rubs at his eyes. “Yes, Ray? Can I help you with something?”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Ray begins speaking at full volume again and claps his hands together, causing Patrick to grimace and recoil from the noise. “Jocelyn is here to see you!”

Suddenly Jocelyn bursts into the room as well, and Patrick jolts into an upright position. He briefly wonders if this is a bizarre fever dream.

“Jocelyn?” he rasps.

“I heard you’ve come down with quite the flu bug! So I’ve brought over some of my famous chicken noodle soup! As soon as I heard you were sick, I knew I had to make you some soup and bring it over since you’re all on your own.”

Patrick frowns. “That’s very kind of you, Jocelyn, thank you. But I’m not on my own.”

“Oh, I know! Ray is here, of course.” Jocelyn says and Ray nods enthusiastically from where he’s still standing at the door.

Ray bounds toward Patrick’s bedside. “We decided to split duties! I went down to the pharmacy!” He upturns a bag of various pills and lozenges and vitamins onto Patrick’s lap.

“Jocelyn heard that you had the flu, Bob heard it was an intestinal virus, and Moira said it was tuberculosis!” Ray sounds positively thrilled. “So I decided to get you a little of everything at the pharmacy!”

Patrick is abruptly feeling very tired again. “Um, wow, okay. Thank you for…all of this. But David has—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off by Jocelyn and Ray laughing heartily. “Oh, don’t worry, Patrick. We know how the Roses are. We’ll take care of you until you’re feeling better, so you aren’t all alone,” Jocelyn says.

“But David was here!” Patrick protests.

Ray gives Jocelyn a look that somehow demonstrates both alarm and his omnipresent glee. “Oh dear! His fever must be worse than we thought!”

Patrick feels confused and annoyed. _David was here, wasn’t he?_

Jocelyn suddenly sticks a thermometer into Patrick’s mouth and he is immensely grateful that Ray purchased an oral thermometer. Ray is going on about his newest business idea (matching pajama sets for couples), when Patrick’s phone begins to ring. Fortunately, he is able to usher his well-meaning but irritating caregivers out the door so he can answer the phone, desperately hoping it is David.

Patrick answers the phone only to be greeted by the sounds of several barking dogs.

“Hey, buddy!” Ted’s voice peals out from amidst the barking. “I heard you were experiencing a bout of diarrhea, so I thought it was my _doo_-ty to call and check up on you. Is there anything you need?”

“I’m not…I don’t have...” Patrick stammers with embarrassment and irritation. “It’s just a fever and sneezing. My intestines are _fine_, thank you.”

“Well, that’s a relief! That certainly would have been a _crappy_ situation. I can still stop by if you need anything, though.”

“No, I’m fine.” Patrick is gritting his teeth and trying not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice. “I really appreciate it, man, but I’ve got everything I need.”

Patrick ends the call with Ted when he feels his phone buzzing, signaling an incoming text. He hopes again that it is David, but it disappointed to see Stevie’s name.

[4:43 p.m.] **Stevie:** hey heard u were sick. has david already sealed u in a room and said his goodbyes?

[4:44 p.m.] **Patrick:** No, actually. I kind of wish he had sealed me in to keep me from Ray, Jocelyn, and Ted.

[4:44 p.m.] **Stevie:** lol yeah the whole town is putting together a “save patrick brewer campaign”

[4:46 p.m.] **Patrick:** …  
Stevie, this whole day has felt like a wild fever dream, and I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious or not.

[4:46 p.m.] **Stevie:** hahahaha

[4:47 p.m.] **Patrick:** Stevie?  
[4:49 p.m.] **Patrick:** STEVIE?!  
[4:52 p.m.] **Patrick:** You’re a terrible friend.

[4:52 p.m.] **Stevie:** *face throwing a kiss emoji* feel better soon patrick!!!

Patrick throws his phone onto the bed and heaves a sigh that starts a coughing spree. He gets up on legs unsteady from spending the day in bed and stumbles to the bathroom to refill his glass with water. He relieves himself and splashes water on his overheated face before slowly trudging back to his bedroom, thinking only of collapsing in bed again.

When Patrick enters his bedroom, he nearly drops his glass in surprise. David is sitting in a chair next to his bed.

“Am I hallucinating?”

“Okay, is it really _that_ shocking that I want to take care of my sick boyfriend?!” David throws his hands up in the air and looks agitated.

Patrick opens his mouth to speak but starts coughing instead. He moves to the bed and sits down, placing his glass on his bedside table.

“David—” he begins, but David shoots up out of the chair and begins pacing.

“The whole fucking town thinks I’m a heartless monster who is planning to just _abandon_ you at the first sight of sickness. I see someone has brought you medicine and soup!” He gestures toward Jocelyn’s cup of soup and the pharmacy’s worth of pills brought by Ray. “Because no one expects that I would think to do such a thing! Why would David bring his boyfriend soup? That’s an outrageous idea apparently!”

Patrick tries to interrupt, but David has worked himself into a frenzied rant and couldn’t be stopped by anything less than a tornado ripping through the bedroom. Or perhaps his favorite pizza.

“I have Alexis texting me I _should at least check up on the poor button_, and my dad stopping by the store to give me a lecture on _setting aside one’s own trepidations for the sake of one’s partner_ and Twyla offering to make a healing potion passed down from her great grandmother’s coven!”

Patrick eyes the empty bowl that had contained Twyla’s soup warily, wondering exactly what she had put in there. He is shaken from that worry by the sudden silence in the room. David has stopped his rant and is staring down at Patrick with his jaw clenched so tightly it looks painful.

“I should clean up.” David jolts forward and starts gathering the empty dishes and sweeping used tissues into a wastebasket. He exits the bedroom before Patrick can even gather his thoughts to speak. He returns several minutes later smelling so strongly of hand sanitizer and soap that it is able to permeate Patrick’s congested nose.

Patrick clears his throat. “David?”

David hums softly to signal he’s listening, but otherwise keeps his attention on the pill bottles he’s organizing on the bedside table.

“David, I’m sorry everyone doubted you. I’m sorry that I doubted you,” Patrick says. “I know how much you hate germs, and I thought you would want to keep some space until I was better. I have never thought you were heartless or didn’t care about me. I just expected you to be worried about catching something from me, so I was surprised.”

“Surprised?” The hurt look is back on David’s face. “You’re surprised that I love you more than I hate germs?”

Patrick feels awash with guilt for so greatly misjudging David’s character. He also feels tremendously overwhelmed by his love for this deeply caring man.

“David,” Patrick reaches a hand out that David immediately takes. “I apologize. I really...I had it all wrong.”

Patrick pauses and wishes desperately that he could clear the fog in his head long enough to organize his thoughts. He needs to give David the apology he deserves, but his brain feels muddled from fever and flu medication.

“You have proven multiple times with your family, with Stevie, and with me how wonderful you are as a caregiver. I won’t...I won’t forget that again. Thank you for taking care of me today.”

Patrick brings their joined hands to his mouth and gently kisses David’s knuckles. David smiles sweetly and pinkens slightly.

“Patrick, I really hope you know...I want…” David’s eyes dart to the side, his eyebrows furrow, and he clears his throat, a clear tell that he’s struggling to say something really sincere. Patrick gives David’s hand a squeeze. David returns his gaze briefly before quickly looking away again.

“Patrick, I hope you know that I am all in with this…with us. In sickness and in health.” David’s eyes fly open when he realizes what he’s said. “I mean…that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to imply, like, us getting ma-married or anything. That’s not…I just meant that I want to be with you, even when you’re sick. And I’m not going to leave you because of a little—okay, a _lot_—of phlegm.”

David’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are delightfully pink, and Patrick is failing to suppress a grin. “David, I’m all in too. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.”

David sucks both of his lips into his mouth and scrunches his eyes shut. When he opens his eyes again, the look on his face is so soft that Patrick feels himself falling in love all over again.

“You better be because you’ll definitely need to take care of me when I inevitably catch whatever plague you have right now.” David gives Patrick a cheeky half-grin.

“Oh, I know, David.” Patrick tugs on David’s hand. “C’mere, love.”

David climbs into the bed and snuggles up to Patrick. They cuddle in silence until Patrick interrupts the moment with an enormous sneeze. While Patrick blows his nose and David presses a kiss to his sweaty, fevered temple, a thought crosses Patrick’s mind. _I’m going to marry this man. _

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr [@landofsonlali](https://landofsonlali.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
